A Study in Dexter
by gallifrey calls now
Summary: Well, well, lookie here, Dexie's a serial killer. How interesting. Rudy's point of view of Dexter throughout the ages.


After years of not having seen his little brother, Brian aches. It's not the same ache he gets when he needs murder. No, it's got more of a bittersweet tang. He misses his brother's smile, he misses his brother's laugh, he misses his brother's hugs, he just misses his _brother._

So he sets out and tries to find him. At 21 years old, he's finally free and on his own, so he starts searching around. He finds old newspapers with articles of the event that happened all those years ago.

Brian finds Dexter. He's nineteen, not old enough for college but old enough to be out of high school. But, with a longing sigh, he realizes it's not Dexter Moser anymore. His little brother is gone, playing football and soccer and dating girls and being so utterly normal it's disgusting.

Brian is right; Dexter Moser is gone. In his place is a robot by the name of Dexter Morgan, who leads a boring life in a boring family house, with a boring mother, a boring father, and a completely dull sister.

Brian leaves. He has to, before he attacks Harry Morgan out of sheer anger. He moves on and forgets.

But he doesn't. Who is he kidding? He'll never be able to forget Dexter, his little brother Dexter, not in a million years. Not after his mother had taught him to take care of Dexter. Brian had failed that, too. He'd let his little brother be carted off to some annoying family who had no idea what Dexter needed, thus changing him into something normal. Nothing special. Everything Moser in Dexter's little body _gone._

Brian moved. A lot. He avoided Miami to the best of his abilities, but finally, almost nine years had passed and he found himself in Miami with a new life and a new name.

Rudy Cooper. A compassionate doctor, his only wish to gift people with new limbs after witnessing his mother's own get cut off.

How _quaint._

Rudy kept quiet, causing a murder once in a while. Once, he even managed to stumble onto his own crime scene. He'd been distracted, and foolishly did what any self-respecting criminal wouldn't – return to the spot of the murder.

The place was infested with cops and forensics specialists alike, but also civilians gathered to enjoy the show, so thankfully he wasn't too out of place. Rudy watched the men and women walk around the hooker's lifeless body cataloguing every detail and taking pictures as if their life depended on it.

They kept saying something about inexperienced cuts and shabby work, but Rudy had to disagree. Not one cut was out of place. And the blood? It was just a work of art.

Dexter Morgan agreed with him.

He came as if from nowhere, a small Asian man without hair coming to greet him. Rudy thought there was something familiar about the man; tall, dark blonde and brown eyes that mirrored his own; he just couldn't place it. There was something at the back of his head, struggling to get through.

"Hey, Dexter," the Asian man greeted.

Dexter. Of course. Dexter Morgan. Sweet, young, innocent, _naïve _Dexter Morgan turned into, what? A forensic specialist?

"You here for the blood splatter?" the Asian man continued.

Dexter smiled. It was plastic and it made Rudy's teeth grit together. "Of course, what else?"

Ah. Blood splatter analyst.

Rudy had seen enough. So his little brother was playing cop now, was he? Did the great Harry Morgan's genes pass onto an adopted child? He left the scene, walking away, forcing himself not to go there and grab his little brother and make a run for it, because Dexter didn't even know him; the articles had said so. Dexter Morgan, the survivor, amnesia.

What a fucking joke.

But an interest piqued was an interest piqued, so Rudy followed Dexter home.

To his great disappointment, Dexter hadn't changed much.

A boring apartment, a boring boat, a boring girlfriend, and a slightly less boring than usual job.

But Rudy still felt like he was missing something, and that just wasn't on. Rudy needed control.

So one day he followed Dexter out. Then the next, and the following. He was swiftly getting bored and in need of a victim, but his instinct told him to wait just a little bit more.

As usual, his gut feelings paid off.

_Well, well, lookie here, Dexie's a serial killer. _

That's _interesting_.

Still, Rudy needs more facts. He can't go on a limb – he's seen Dexter commit one murder, that doesn't mean he kills for a living. So he waits till the next day when Dexter's at work, analyzing some pretty bloody painting on one wall or another. Rudy sneaks in his apartment, and starts thinking. Where would _he _place serial killer stuff if he were Dexter.

The answer comes right away. _Easy._

He quickly finds a very beautiful knife collection with some rather impressive steak knives – either Dexter is a damn good cook and Rudy had somehow missed that, or he uses these for some other purpose. They're shiny and not a speck of dust on them – they're being regularly used and cleaned.

Next Rudy finds the files and folders, both on his computer and in his secured desk. Those on the computer he can't crack as it's highly protected by passwords and trick questions, but the desk ones he's able to access with a simple bobby pin. It's not much, but it's enough to feed his hunch – there are files on people who have disappeared the past two months and will presumably disappear in the next.

After he's done searching through the countless papers, Rudy stands up and breaths in deeply while checking the clock. He's got enough time to finish. He just needs to find the final evidence – trophies. Something unique from each victim, something that has to be hidden completely out of sight…

He turns and faces the air conditioner.

Perfect.

Rudy opens the lid quickly and burrows in, searching for what he knows should be in there. And there it is – a rectangular wooden box with samples of blood.

That's creative. And a rather remarkable collection.

It's also very sad. A cry for help.

After leaving everything the way he had found it, Rudy ponders the question, Is Dexter boring anymore?

Then he remembers the cold look Dexter had when he was nineteen and smirks.

Dexter had never boring in the first place.


End file.
